


No One Needs to Know [ David Walliams x Simon Cowell ]

by iamnotanegg



Category: Britain's Got Talent, Britain's Got Talent RPF, Simon Cowell - Fandom, bgt, david walliams - Fandom
Genre: BGT Judges, Britain's Got Talent - Freeform, David Walliams - Freeform, David Walliams x Simon Cowell, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, Simon Cowell - Freeform, Simon Cowell x David Walliams, bgt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-03-30 13:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13952646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotanegg/pseuds/iamnotanegg
Summary: Some things are better of unsaid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ Author's Note █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁
> 
> This was originally intended for Wattpad, but I just can't figure out how to use Wattpad with ease.  
> Compared to Ao3 which is draft, post and click to view, I'd rather just continue here than deal with maintenance breaks and complicated viewing methods. Though, I wish Ao3 would do some easier way of bolding out words and formatting.
> 
> I've posted three chapters on Wattpad under the title "Unspoken", but I might do some revisions now that I'm at a more comfortable platform.
> 
> Also, this is my first attempt to write for the BGT fandom, so I really hope it wouldn't suck ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ .  
> Feedback on comments would highly be appreciated.
> 
> Cheers!  
> -D

" _Aw, just look a'im. Precious lil' bugger in'he?"_ Cooed Ant; running a nimble finger along the pooch's exposed belly; to which Bert replied with a shut - eyed yawn, burrowing his face onto the comedian’s chest.

Dogs ‘ _weren't’_  allowed on Simon's private plane unless Squiddly, Diddly and Freddy were on it. Not only would it make the infamously critical music mogul homesick, but he thought it would divide a certain  _someone's_ attention from the others; could be his dog - loving self or, as expected of Bert's owner, David Walliams.

" _Shhh, now. You'll wake ‘im up!"_ Replied Dec; nudging his comrade on the side.

" _T’s alright."_ Says David with a soft chuckle, rocking himself as he cradled Bert back to sleep. " _Go on. He's quite tired, he won't fuss."_ The comedian pauses, leaning his head against Bert in an embrace - like fashion as the two Geordies giggled among themselves admiring the photo they just took; David cuddling Bert with Ant and Dec making tutting pouty faces upfront.

A good hour passes and the pilot announces their estimate time of arrival.

With Amanda preoccupied asking Alesha dance terminologies from one of the auditions, the Geordies on their phones, David content and  _surprisingly_ quiet in his seat, and Stephen Mulhern already at their designated lodging spot, all was left was Simon, who couldn't get back to a proper nap, munching on a bowl of popcorn.

" _Yo’ (you’re) awf’lly quiet today, David."_ Says Simon, tossing a piece to chew on. It didn't seem much like a compliment as it lacked Simon Cowell's stern delivery as seen through his judging. Not to mention, a visibly amused grin as if to invoke lip from an unusually well - behaved David Walliams.

David turns with happy creases etched over eyes that glimmered at Simon's call; of which triggered some sort of excitement in Simon's system that he couldn't help but broaden that devilish smirk and toss another shot at the comedian.

" _I like this betta (better)."_ Says Simon; coyly waving his fingers at David's entirety. " _I should have Bert on the panel mo’ often."_ He adds, seating himself onto his side to cross a leg over his knee.

Simon snickered in anticipation, he was ready for it. He had a full - on rest with everyone grabbing as much sleep as him, the auditions were great, Eric's two, Freddy's (his mum’s dog) adjusted with the family; everything was just going well. He was such in a good mood that anything Walliams would  _use_ against him wouldn't sour a competitive, playful banter; because truthfully, they do get on so well.

But to Simon Cowell’s dismay, the children’s book author merely made a cheery sigh, shook his head and resumed his focus on his beloved border terrier.

Bert has become David's safe haven apart from his mum, Kathleen Williams. It has only been a year since the divorce got finalized and losing both his son and love of his life, supermodel Lara Stone, is too just plainly too much. With both love and the promise of picturesque family gone, having Bert returned seemed like a proper reminder that life goes on and that he should. Not only for himself, but for Kathleen, Bert, and many more that he could inspire or cheer.

David Walliams wasn't particularly sad today, not even at the thought of where he stands now; divorced and depressed (at times). Despite a progressive career as a comedian, writer and judge, something is still undeniably missing. In some way, Bert fills the now gaping hole in his chest. Bert reminds him that at the end of all tribulations would be another day to celebrate life, career, and fatherhood among all other achievements. Great friends, projects pouring in, profit, charities, and good health.

Dogs are too much for us humans. How one could love so unconditionally truly serves an inspiration.

David’s lack of response merited a tart shrug and frown from Simon. He would've fired another one at David, but the pilot cut in and mild turbulence followed.

" _Is it time to wake up? Hmm? Is it time to wake up, my handsome boy?"_ Mumbled David calmly, adjusting his arms to have a better hold at Bert who tossed instinctively as the plane went into a rattled landing and the speakers barked (no pun intended) the pilot's announcement. Listening, Bert turns his head left to right as if to inspect the sound’s origin before hopping off David's embrace; yawning as he shook himself fully awake.

Simon, though he would never admit even to himself, sat waiting as if the comedian rightfully  **owed**  him a response. Gaze fixated on David who then leaned over the armrest to follow where Bert was heading.

" _You've had a good nap, di'n't you, Bert?"_

It was Alesha; inviting Bert over with her hand dangling within the dog's reach.

" _You as well, David?"_ Came Amanda Holden's voice, sliding her feet into her heeled shoe. " _Flight's awf ' lly long."_ She added, grunting as he stretched her arms high before rising to her feet. " _And yet, I wouldn't mind a couple mo' hours in bed."_

" _'Course you wouldn't."_ Teased David; eyes squinted and lips pursed in a mock of seduction, causing Alesha to have at her famous  _squeaky_  giggle as she picked up Bert.

" _Ha- ha! Cheeky git!"_ Ant and Dec joined in at Amanda's retort, seeking for Simon to back her up. " _Simon?"_

 _"Ooh, she'd tell on ’ya, David! She’d tell on ’ya!"_ Ant commented, laughing as tucked his hands into his jean pockets.

David mouthed a cheery ' _what?'_ and turned to address the judge across, but he's already gone.

" _Yer lucky Simon's gone off or you'll ge' an earful."_ Says Dec with a nod, grinning toothily as he squeezed David's shoulder on his way board off.

" _And I'm gonna borrow this good boy right he' (here). Yes, you are!"_ Says Alesha; flashing David a smile, following Amanda with Bert in her arms.

Right before David left his seat, he found Simon's reading glasses lonely by the tray. Taking it upon himself to retrieve the item and hand it to Simon, who generously ‘ _allowed’_  him to bring Bert along, the comedian bid the pilot and the staff thanks and goodbye before dismounting the plane.

Of course, quite in a camp manner for a good laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ Author's Note █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁
> 
> I accidentally deleted this bit here.  
> I also forgot what was on here. 
> 
> My bad,  
> -D

It’s been a millennia of an hour since anyone heard from Simon Cowell. He wasn’t the type to quietly storm off without telling at least one of them without ensuring the point came across. On top of that, there would have been a grave reason for him to march right out without word. Even so, Simon’s the type of person that has the decency to pardon himself proper like a gent; emergency or not.

“ _Have you heard from Simon?”_ Came Amanda’s woeful query; lips pursed in a pout as she scrolled through her phone. “ _He hasn’t replied yet. Alesha?”_

Alesha shakes her head but doesn’t seem to be overly bothered by it. Knowing Simon, he could be on an important conference call or is on Skype with Lauren and Eric. Besides, it’s only been what; hour, hour and a half? He could right well be taking a quick shower or a nap.

“ _Is he in a bad mood today?”_ Alesha asks; innocence in her voice as she unfolded the menu and scanned through pastries and beverages.

“ _Not that I know of.”_ Replied Amanda; brows a tight knit.

“ _You’re worrying too much.”_ Scolded Alesha with an assuring smile and a gentle tap on the shoulder. “ _I’m sho’ (sure) he’d be right down. Ant ‘n Dec’s not around eith’a, maybe they went off fo’ a boy’s night out.”_

_“A boy’s night out?”_ Replied the bewildered and amused Amanda; a convinced giggle as she placed her phone down and scooted closer to Alesha peering at the menu. “ _It’s only two!”_

_“My bad.”_ Alesha giggles in her squeaky fashion. “ _Then he’s still asleep.”_

While the two girls laughed and carried on with about the boys, David had just finished talking to Linda, Bert’s caretaker during their travel. On his way to the café to join Alesha and Amanda for a late lunch, David figured he could hand off Simon’s reading glasses before he takes the lift. At the same time, he could ask Simon to lend him a charger since Stephen’s gone off with Ant, who promised to let David borrow his, and Dec.

Meanwhile…

“ _It’s getting to his head.”_

_“It is. Getting. To his head.”_

As if once wasn’t enough to alleviate himself of what had transpired, reiterating with great emphasis did neither. **Better out than in** , he thought. **Absolute bull**.

Simon filled his cheeks with air and blew an irritable sigh; shaking his head as he paced and rubbed his forehead briefly before forcing himself to pick up his cellular device.

**Nothing**.

Nothing but six text messages and two missed calls from Amanda, two text messages from Alesha and an open draft addressed to Lauren Silverman after sending a fairly recent message that they have arrived at the hotel.

Though it gave Simon a much-needed affirmation of being wanted, he still felt annoyed for feeling in a rather _unfamiliar_ way. There’s no point stressing over what **it** is. He’s fifty – seven years of age with a great eye for talent and Midas’ touch in business; surely, something as simple as **infatuation** wouldn’t escape his thinking. Known for his blatant honesty, it’d be farfetched if he indulged in bits of self – denial, wouldn’t it?

But the question still stands; **why**?

Why not Amanda? **Well, she’s obnoxious, that’s why**.

Why not Alesha then? **Godmother material.**

Ant or Dec? **Who’s to say they haven’t gone camp with each other?**

Stephen Mulhern? **Let’s not even go there, Si.**

So why David? Why a **man** among other things?

“ _This is absu’d (absurd).”_ Concluded Simon, rolling his eyes as he threw his hands in the air. “ _I can’t be bothered with this. I just can’t.”_

**Nothing**.

And despite a full hour of verbal ministrations between _himself_ and Simon Cowell, bitterness triumphed as no change came about on the screen; save for the added minutes that passed.

**Still nothing.**

“ _What an airhead.”_ Simon continued, shaking his head irritably before throwing his phone hard onto the soft cot. “ _What a fucking cunt---“._

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

“ _Simon, ah’ (are) you in the’r (there)?”_

It was David. 

**Am I supposed to be ecstatic now that he’s here?** He thought to himself; obviously still sour and seemingly ready to hand David a mouthful as he marched angrily towards the door.

Finger on the trigger; hand on the knob. In a single turn, it’s either fight or flight; whatever that may mean at this point.

**I’ll show him.**

Or so he claims.

It’s quite difficult to stay mad over something that can be conveniently resolved with ease. It’s not like he was waiting for an apology from the other side of the world, is he? Where his night would be the other’s day and vice versa? That he’d have to bear ten - twelve excruciatingly long hours without pestering them with a text message seemingly desperate? No. Never. Simon isn’t about that life; he’s too damn proud to sink that low. That would be completely immature for his age and **it’s not his fault**.

It’s not like David had done something that would require his empire to shell out over a quarter – million pounds for damages, right? So that pegs the question ‘ _why’_ again.

Why David?

Why has he gone mental for the past two – three hours because David was ‘ **purposely’** _ignoring_ him? Shouldn’t he be glad that the comedian has been on his best behavior over the course of the trip? Shouldn’t he be grateful that without David’s constant taunts and antics, the flight went rather peaceful as opposed to an extremely ~~fun~~ chaotic venture? Shouldn’t he be delighted David has shown up to “formally apologize” for what he’s done?

**Yeah, that’s it.**

**He’s come to say sorry, Si.**

Meanwhile, David stood by the door with an exasperated sigh and palms right over his hips like a disgruntled woman.

“ _Now, why a’n’t (aren’t) you indecent?”_ Asked David with coy distraught over his face that then turned into a pleasant chuckle.

“ _David!”_ Replied his fellow judge; brows a tight knit and face lightly flustered.

“ _You betta (better) ‘ave a good answer, Si.”_ Cheeky David replies; brows at a wiggle.

_“What do you want David?”_ Came Simon’s abrupt, yet calm retort; eyes rolling with a light shake of the head.

At that moment, David fully laughs and pulls out Simon’s reading glass from his chest pocket. “ _You fo’got these.”_ Says David; waving the item for emphasis. “ _You alright?”_

**Give ‘im a chance, Simon.**

“ _Fine. Thanks.”_ Simon replied, snagging the spectacles off David’s grasp.

There was a bit of an eerie silence that floated between David and Simon. The older judge was obviously sour and David was both baffled and concerned by Simon’s nonchalance. Though it was typical of Simon to keep his emotions at bay, his gestures couldn’t; not to mention David being a comedian would require a sense of keenness to details to muse a joke or two or seek out opportune moments for a witty comeback.

Thinking it was either jetlag or just plain Simon Cowell needing a nap, the comedian thought it best to take a step back from prying. He did honor David’s favor to wait for Bert to be brought on trip at the last minute, might as well keep on Simon’s good side for a while. There’s always time to show off and take a piss on Simon on BGT anyway; either during the show itself or during break hours.

“ _… R… ight. Okay, um... I shall see you at the café with the girls, yeah?”_ Hesitant and still very much worried of his Simon, the comedian lingered for a bit as if waiting for Simon to speak or anything at all to let him in on whatever Si’s fussing about. With Simon’s gaze averted and an awkward roll of his sleeves, he nodded with a neutral beam and stepped back inside. “ _Go on.”_ Simon says, closing the door as soon as David turned to meet the girls.

“ _You are sho’ (sure) you’re alrig---“_

The door closes and Simon’s brain chose to discredit the faint question that fell off David’s lips. His heart, however, heard it at full blast.

“ _What an asshole.”_ Groaned Simon; kneading his temples as he walked towards the bed mindful of his glasses. “ _What an absolute… You know what? Okay. Okay. Let’s just fo’get the whole thing Simon. Just…”_ He pauses to inhale deeply and releases. “ _Just fo’get that eva (ever) happened.”_

Taking a few extra breathing exercises, Cowell puts his reading glasses on and heads out to meet with the rest of the judges.

 

* * *

 

“ _There you are!”_ Amanda chirped; covering her lips daintily as she chewed and swallowed, she waves at Simon excitedly. Alesha, who sat back coolly and unclipped the straw off her lips smiled at the approaching man and spoke on behalf of a full – mouthed Amanda Holden.

“ _Where’d you gone?”_ Alesha asks softly; eyes following the Simon.

_“Hello, my darlings.”_ Hailed Simon, leaning in between both women to plant chaste cheek kisses on each before seating himself down.

“ _Where were you?”_ She asked once more, taking another sip from her glass.

“ _Had to make sure I got the best room.”_ Simon exclaims wide – eyed with a playful shrug.

“ _But you always get the best one.”_ Blurted Amanda, dabbing a napkin over her lips.

“ _I know. Still.”_ Cowell laughs as he reached for the menu and began scanning it. “ _Where’s Ant and Dec?”_ Simon adds, peering briefly at the girls before staring back down at the list.

“ _I think they’re off to meet Stephen.”_ Replied Amanda, taking a shy sip of tea. Simon responds with a nod and a barely audible “ _Ah”._

“ _And David’s off to meet someone, I think?”_ Says Alesha, turning to Amanda to confirm before picking up her phone. “ _Y....... es. Yes, he’s off to meet.....”_ She shrugs with a laugh. “ _I don’t know, someone?”_ Her laughter grew; to which Amanda joined in. “ _Most likely a guy, that’s fo’ sho’ (sure).”_

“ _I’ll have this please.”_ Whispered Simon as he leaned back to address the waiter, not wanting to ruin the mood of the table because clearly, he wasn’t impressed. Though despite his _ill – feelings_ towards David today, he kept a cheery ~~tolerable~~ attendance with his fellow judges and the staff.

**Not only is he being twat about it, but he’s out in God knows where!**

Not that Simon Cowell has problems with homosexuality, he’s just _not_ into it. Sure, dress up for a skit or play isn’t all horrid; glam on your face and sing ‘Ave Maria’ on stage is opera – esque, but he simply cannot fathom a male on male relationship ~~particularly on himself~~ as much as he couldn’t fathom why David out on a _date_ bothers him. Another _why_ for the books. Thank goodness, auditions begin tomorrow.

“ _A’ (are) you alright, love?”_ Amanda leans in, hand over his shoulder with eyes worried; making Alesha turn to him as well. But before Simon could respond, Ant, Dec and Stephen joins them for a chat. Pleasant as it was, Simon made sure to swerve the topic elsewhere when David Walliams would be mentioned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning.   
> Slightly depressing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ Author's Note █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁
> 
> This bit is depressing mainly because I wrote this while depressed over a break up, stress and other things going on. I've had this done a few months ago, but I had been too lethargic to function. I couldn't decide whether I should drop indulge my emotions and use this story as a medium of release, scratch it off, or use it as a rock to remind me that at my shit days, I was / is still able to write. I'm not entirely better, but I'm still alive and I think the original half of this (the next chapter) is cute enough to put on here. 
> 
> It's has a bit of fan - service on there, but it's... cheery.
> 
> Thanks for your patience and feedback.  
> \- D, xoxoxo

“ _One of those nights again, David?”_

Rhetorical as the question was, it still merited an answer; albeit a timid nod and eyes tamed with despair, an answer nonetheless. An answer that scorned ears adorned with a classy, Gautlier pair of fine emerald with gold beddings (earrings); an answer that left an evenly battered heart for the dogs to gnaw on. An answer that nearly made the young woman whimper on his behalf.

She felt for him as deep as an empath would; perhaps even more. Her emotions lividly melancholic enough to block out chatter from surrounding tables and further dim the lights of the club to wallow in darkness. Her heart has recently been broken and though she had been on the mend, or so she tries, Aubrey couldn’t help but feel terrible for David, who is still bearing the plight of the divorce and his ex – wife’s custody over their son.

He’d have cried so many nights by now, that the lingering grasp of loneliness has become a norm. Eyes once full of love had dimmed to nothing more but orbs of transitional happiness. They would glisten on stage; illuminated by the colorful beams of his audience, young and old, as he throws himself into a paid – false sense of security, that as long as people would laugh at his antics and see his shows, all was fine. He’d have cried so many nights by now that all he could do was drink until he couldn’t cry no more.

She knew his story as he does hers; a one – sided copious amount of love that withstood unbearable tests until their respective significant others had given up. And much like birds of the same flock, they’ve taken it upon themselves to do what they felt was the right. To honor love, to honor happiness; their happiness. Even at David’s and Aubrey’s own expense.

“ _I just…”_ David sighs; grunting as he unbuttons the top bit off his shirt. “ _I just don’t… “_ He sighs once more; hitting the table with a light weight palm in slight annoyance. “ _I just don’t think it’s time that I started…”_

_“Getting laid? Having sex?”_ Aubrey replied abruptly; eyes sternly meeting David’s restless set. “ _No one’s forcing you, hon.”_ The young woman giggles; rubbing her temples in disbelief before taking David’s hand between hers. “ _Look. We’re out here tonight to have fun, okay? Doesn’t have to be pricks in our mouth or any of the sort. We don’t even have to take our clothes off, yeah? We’re just here to get shit – faced and hope I…”_ Another pause for emphasis as she _humbly_ referred to herself to get David to worry less. “ _Yes, I; just me. Get lucky. Yeah?”_

“ _You whore.”_ The comedian replies with half a smile but a smile nonetheless. “ _Come on you.”_ Cooed David; grabbing the woman by the curve of her side. He leans to whisper onto her ear; hips rocking to the rhythm of Honky Tonk Women as they both cramped themselves into a thick crowd of gyrating, bodies and disco lights.

“ _Hot guy in blue. Sorry love, I saw ‘im first.”_ She roars in laughter, playfully shoving David before getting lost in the crowd, the music and their 17th glass of cherry mojito and absinthe. The night was young and so were they; perhaps it wouldn’t be a crime if he’d yet again indulge to forget another ‘ _one of those nights’_ feel.

That is, until it suddenly became apparent that if he continued to mingle and tease, he’d end up in bed with either a man or a woman, or both. Hardly matters now that his belt has gone missing and his lips had gone awfully red; courtesy of a generous couple who introduced themselves as fans of Little Britain and slid a paper invite for a swinger’s ball next week. Luckily, time flies when you’re truly having fun.

_“Let’s do this again, yeah?”_

As if words weren’t enough to portray the speaker’s great interest and enjoyment, David Walliams merited a wink and a peppered lip before sliding into the backseat with what appears to be an _after – sex glow_ of sort; cheeks tint of pink, one sleeve rolled up while the other barely clipped to proper, a disheveled crown and _sweet release_ plastered all over his face.

**Figuratively.**

“ _Where we off to, Mr. Walliams_?” Asked the pale, middle – aged man of Irish decent.

“ _Hooooome_!” Replied the cheery comedian; humming and madly grinning as he reclined cozily and savored the taste of sweet nectar glistening over lips plump and rosy.

“ _Right you are, sir_.”

Mere minutes traversing the main road towards where the BGT judges were checked in, David’s phone lit up and buzzed aggressively. Though it emitted no sound nor had any effect on the knackered passenger; the driver, in his tenure of forty years, was left scratching the back of his head as the hostile device continued to reverberate onto the leather seat.

Unsure whether to lightly pat the now unconscious judge to wake or leave himself out of a possible dispute between the belligerent caller, he opted to do the next best thing; pretend it never existed and hoped the caller would get a bloody hint that Walliams is clearly unavailable.

If it were up to him, the old chap, he’d have stealthily nicked the phone that had now lodged itself onto the wedge of the seat, tutted at it as he turns it off, and spend the rest of the drive contemplating on adding ten more years picking up and driving drunk celebrities to their hotels and pray to _God_ his back doesn’t cave in from the sheer weight of dragging them up to their rooms.

While David Walliams doesn’t appear to be heavily intoxicated, he had completely passed out. He didn’t reek of alcohol or the usual horrid mix of perfume and sweat from all the dancing and grinding these celebrities do, nor was he able to pick up any _herbal_ residue when the comedian entered the car. If all, Walliams looked remorsefully pitiful; drunk, tired and unruly masked by their mirthful farewell.

Then again, this isn’t the first he’s seen the sight; back in the early 80’s he’s worked for musicians whose lifestyles are anyone’s dream of sex, booze, fame, fortune and glory. And yet, at the end of each passing day being chased by multitudes of groupies who’d do just about anything for a cup or feel, a kiss or an autograph; sure millions in the bank and a steady income from royalties are the same people who’d quietly sink back in the car and do just about anything to keep the system alive despite how they’ve sealed themselves quicker deaths.

Depressing as the thought maybe, it at least gave the driver a form of resolve to better act upon the current issue; David’s phone.

Off it went and into the comedian’s pocket, never to bother him for the evening. He looked like he needed some peace and quiet; not someone who’d make the night worse for him.  

**Poor lad** , the driver thought as he bid thanks and farewell to the hotel staff that assisted David up to his room.


End file.
